


A Light In The Darkness

by helenblackthorn



Category: Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 07:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4995988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helenblackthorn/pseuds/helenblackthorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark presents Kieran a gift beneath the afternoon sun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Light In The Darkness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Razzaroo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Razzaroo/gifts).



> a smol fic for a friend xx enjoy!

He decided when the sun is warm on their backs, their stomachs full and their stags grazing lazily upon the grass. Mark was sandwiched between them; Kieran on his right and Gwyn to his left, their robes and armour discarded somewhere out of sight. The grass tickled, and Mark's shoulder was leaned against Gwyn's chest, his legs entwined with Kieran's, and he felt at peace.

His witchlight was in his hands, emitting a glow prominent even beneath the sunlight. He saw Los Angeles when he looked at it, could almost hear the waves breaking against the shore. Kieran has always held a fascination toward it. How it would light up at Mark's familiar touch; how just a brush of his fingers could bring light upon them all.

It was endearing, really.

"To a Shadowhunter a witchlight is given so we can always find the light in the darkness," Mark told him, staring down at the stone between his fingers. It's light was vibrant, a beacon in the afternoon sun, and it reflected in Kieran's mismatched eyes. He looked captivated, like he always was, and Mark's lips pulled into a grin out of reflex at the sight. "We carry one wherever we go. To me though, it's more than just a guiding piece. It's a memory. A small piece of home, something permanent that's never changed, unlike everything else."

When Kieran said nothing, Mark continued, flipping the stone twice over between his fingers. "Although it only works for Shadowhunters," he hesitated, not because he is resistant, but instead because he was unsure of how the Hunter beside him would react. "But I believe that I would like you to have this, Kieran."

Kieran faltered and blinked, leaning back to get a better look at Mark. "You would give me this?" He asked, and his voice is quiet as though he cannot believe it. "On what occasion?"

"No occasion," Mark said, and he grabbed one of Kieran's hands to place the witchlight in his palm. He does not let go, so the light was not doused, and because he found he wanted the contact between them regardless. He felt Kieran's fingers curl beneath his, and his lips twitched into a grin.

"Even after everything you've said. Everything that it means to you." Said Kieran, his eyes on their touching hands and the stone between them. "You'd give it away to me, although it will not even work when you let go?"

"It's a good thing I'm not planning on leaving any time soon, then, isn't it?" Mark assured, a light feeling in bubbling within his chest when he noticed Kieran's lips twitch into a smile. "I can see how captivated you are by them. Please, take it. Your smile and happiness is worth giving a piece of home away. I would not regret it, I promise that."

Gwyn hummed beside him, long legs crossed and feet bare. "How strange to give someone a present that will not work," he says, and he shifted to trace a permanent rune on Mark's shoulder. He kissed it often, although Mark had told him it was not a piece of art to be admired. "I never pegged you for a hopeless romantic."

"He's well read, our Mark Blackthorn," Kieran answered, and he ran his fingers over the smooth stone when Mark pulled his hand away, marveling it's ragged edges. The light disappeared, but Kieran didn't seem to mind. He seems more interested in the stone's surface, over anything else, and his fascination is endearing. "It is the thought behind the present that matters most. My heart is warmed. I'm not sure how I can thank you properly."

"I can think of a few ways to show your gratitude, Prince," said Gwyn, and Mark threw his head back with a laugh.

"Now that you mention it," Kieran's smile remained as he reached over and hooked a finger beneath Mark's chin. He pressed their lips together; it was short and sweet, and then he pulled away, his full attention on the witchlight in his palm. "But first, I think I'd like to hear more of this." He gestured to the stone, smirking. "You speak well, Mark. I'm sure you have stories to tell?"

Mark's lips curled into a smile. He leaned back against Gwyn, his skin hot and from the glow of the sun. "Yeah,” he said, “I'm sure I can come up with something." 


End file.
